


star-eyed

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: He blinks, and looks at Jinki - really looks at him, trying to account for all the stray intimacies his mind keeps generating. He's not desperate, not lonely, not drunk, but something about Jinki is making him want, with a hot curl of desire tight beneath his skin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> onminkey is in chapter 4 only (currently). primary pairing is and will continue to be onkey.

Biologically speaking, everything about Lee Jinki is pornographic.

Practically speaking, everything about Lee Jinki is fucking tragic, and that is a fact that drives Jonghyun to drink even if he can't actually get drunk anymore - one of those side effects no one tells you about until it's too late and you're an undying sad sack of sobriety sitting at the end of the bar.

But, that was a sidebar. Lee Jinki. Jonghyun examines him through a glass half-full of alcohol so potent he should be knocked out just by breathing it in. He wonders idly if the man has ever taken the initiative, or if he always needs the little push.

Well, no time like the present (except the future, and past, and Jonghyun's been around for a while. The present is a fucking hipster.). He slides off his bar stool and brushes past a series of bodies whose heads turn like a set of dominos to look at him. It's a predictable, understandable reaction - it's one of the reasons he forgives immortality for the whole constant sobriety thing. Ignoring the open bar stool next to Jinki, he insinuates himself right into his warm lap and motions to the bartender for another drink before Jinki can displace him.

"Shouldn't you be outside by now?" the other man asks, unruffled at the extra weight.

"Not tonight."

Jinki hooks his chin onto Jonghyun's shoulder, leans in close to nuzzle at a scar that's long disappeared. It doesn't stop Jonghyun from shivering a little. He will stand by his assessment of Jinki being fucking tragic, but it won't stop him from enjoying it.

"Oh?", he asks without any expectation of an answer. He already has his answer in how Jonghyun is burrowing down between his thighs, how he's ignoring all the eager, entranced eyes in favor of Jinki's steady, welcoming heat.

"Jinki," Jonghyun murmurs as the other man's hands slide along the waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt loose so his touch finds bare skin that reliably prickles at the gentle press. He is pliant and responsive even after so many years, and Jinki feels a swell of unencouraged affection.

Jinki sighs and presses a kiss to Jonghyun's neck.

"You know what would be fun..."

"I don't," he says, sounding so sincere Jonghyun almost believes him. He nuzzles up to his ear and sucks the tender, soft skin between his teeth.

Jonghyun twists, tearing it out of his mouth too rough to not bleed, but it won't. It never does. His eyes are dark and pleading, and Jinki sighs, wishing that someone in this bar had been bold enough to paw at Jonghyun earlier, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to resist, would've been in the bathroom, licking blood out of a hundred cuts until his lover had fluttered into satisfied unconsciousness.

But no one had, and now Jonghyun is fixated on Jinki, and all the things Jinki makes Jonghyun want.

"Jjongie," he attempts to persuade, letting his hands find their well-traveled path. "You know I don't."

Jonghyun pouts and Jinki leans up, licking at the exposed, pale pink of his lip.

"You'd feel better, and you know it," he throws his legs over Jinki's so he's straddling the other man. Jinki's eyes have gone black, unmissable even in the bad lighting, and Jonghyun bends down to dust kisses down Jinki's jawline.

"C'mon, Jinki," he breathes against the swell of his Adam's apple. His hands tighten around Jonghyun's hips. "You want to."

"I don't," comes the reply, instantaneous and false. Jonghyun can feel the blood rushing to Jinki's cheeks even as he pulls back to examine his face. He looks teased, and Jonghyun loves it.

"You know that I would," he starts, and they both know it's true. Jonghyun has no problem with submission, servitude, being used and broken for all the world to see. It never stops anyone from wanting him. "But you need someone else. You're not meant to be so...monogamous. Vanilla."

Jinki looks offended, and his hands grip harder. Jonghyun imagines bruises that will never be.

He wheedles in closer, placing his head into the curve of his shoulder so that they're both looking at the rest of the bar.

"Pick one. Make them yours."

Jinki lets out a breath, and Jonghyun knows he's won. He eyes the array in front of him, and his gaze falls on a pair of intelligent eyes, a lovely face, a haughty gait that begs to be broken. The man shakes his hair out of his eyes and briefly brushes his gaze over the pair of them before sliding beside a table at the other side of the room. Jonghyun shifts in Jinki's lap as he feels the other man, how enamored he is at first sight, a romantic impulse that no one could quite drum out of him.

"Go over there already," he says, leaning in to lick at his slightly parted lips. "Maybe he'll bite."

Jinki's lips curl before Jonghyun pulls away completely, into a smile that teases at all the things that Jonghyun wants to see. He hops off just as he moves to get up, accepts the warm, affectionate kiss that pushes heat down his throat.

He leans back on his elbows, and prepares for his favorite sight: Jinki, indulging in his nature.

* * *

Kibum's hands are already halfway to dismissal for the man who comes up to his table, not even bothering to look up. His focus is on alcohol tonight, not company.

"I'm really sorry," the man says, and he actually sounds sincerely apologetic, a rarity that has Kibum breaking his oath and looking up.

 _Cute_ , he thinks, and the man blushes just as the thought sweeps across Kibum's mind, like he could hear the assessment.

"I just wanted...to talk to you...," he continues and his hand lands nervously on the back of the chair Kibum should have dragged away when he sat down.

Kibum sips at his drink and pointedly doesn't invite the other man to sit down. He notices and pulls his hand away quickly, as though it had flared hot against his skin. He stands there, awkward, as Kibum waits and wonders why he even bothered looking up. Cute and awkward only brings so much forgiveness, and he finds his gaze catching on how his fingers are playing idly at the cuffs of his shirt. His visitor's hands are wide, thick-fingered, _and he imagines the span of it against the back of his head, pushing Kibum beneath the table._

He finishes off his drink viciously and clears his throat to deliver the mercy kill, but he's stopped before the words can get out.

"You're beautiful, you know. More than anyone else I've ever seen," he says, and he's looking straight at Kibum with big, chocolate-dark eyes, and he feels a flush crawl up his neck at the simple compliment. He swallows down his dismissal without thinking, the straightforwardness of his words working an odd, entertaining charm over him.

_He wonders if his compliments would come in a whisper as he bends at the waist to graze his lips against the shell of Kibum's ear._

Kibum shifts, says, "You wanted to talk to me because I'm beautiful, but you haven't let me say anything." He smirks, but it feels strange and unfamiliar, like it's the wrong thing for his lips to be doing.

A hopeful look comes into the other man's eyes, "A conversation is better when you can sit?"

Kibum nods stiffly and a smile lights up his visitor's face as he takes a seat.

"I'm Jinki," he formally introduces himself, and he holds out his hand to shake. Kibum takes it, and Jinki's fingers curl inwards, nails finding the lines of his palm. _Kibum can only imagine the same sensation against his scalp._

"Kibum," he says sternly.

"Kibum," Jinki breathes it out intimately. "What are you doing here tonight? Meeting anyone?"

He huffs a laugh at the transparency.

"I wanted a drink," he says instead, and Jinki's face goes bright in an instant, before he turns in his seat, signaling at one of the bartenders for a refill. There's a purplish bruise exposed by the gesture, resting just above his collarbone, and Kibum's eyes narrow and he looks down the line of bodies pressed against the countertop. Jinki looks pleased as the bartender nods in acknowledgement and begins to work on the drink, but his expression turns confused until he follows the line of his sight, and finds the small blond smiling at the nearest warm body.

"Do you think I'll end up sitting in your lap too?" he asks, a little more waspish than he intends, because Jinki is just some guy at a bar. Jinki's boyfriend / hook-up is licking alcohol off of his top lip, and it's left shiny even in the dim lighting. His eyes are bright.

"Jonghyun's a little forward," Jinki says, and Kibum snorts at the understatement. The other man is smiling out of the corner of his eyes. "He likes to tease me."

"Looks like you enjoyed it," Kibum responds, still looking at Jonghyun. His hand flutters in the general direction of Jinki's neck. "Are you trying to tell me you don't like it?"

"I like follow-through," Jinki says simply as he turns back to face him. His face is thoughtful. "I don't mind teasing as a precursor."

"It sounds like you never learned to how take rejection."

Jinki's eyes crinkle at the edges, even as he doesn't smile. 

"I don't get much practice."

He doesn't say those words like Kibum would expect - not cocky, not flirtatious. He says it like it's just another fact of his existence. 

In the silence that follows, his new drink is set down before him, and he takes a sip of it, appreciating how they've made it stronger this time around. A stray hair falls in front of his eyes, and Jinki lurches a little, as though he has to remember it's not his place, not his privilege to tuck Kibum's hair back for him. He swipes a finger against the table instead, and  _Kibum can feel the brush of his fingers against his cheekbones_ _, how they cup his face_. 

He blinks, and looks at Jinki - really looks at him, trying to account for all the stray intimacies his mind keeps generating. He's not desperate, not lonely, not drunk, but something about Jinki is making him want, with a hot curl of desire tight beneath his skin.

The look on Jinki's face changes while Kibum examines him. The open sincerity stays, but with it a kind of distant curiosity, like he was waiting to see if Kibum will surprise him. It's hopeful, even, in a way that says his hopes have been disappointed before. 

JInki finally breaks the silence, "Kibum, you're staring."

"Yes."

"Why?"

His tongue feels heavy, weighted somehow by the distance between their two bodies.  _It would be easier to speak right into his ear, press his chest against his and let their communication be just theirs. His and Jinki's._ It seems right. Kibum slides closer to the table, closer to Jinki, who is looking at him with the same patient, hopeful eyes. 

"Should I stare at Jonghyun instead?" he cracks, looking over in time to see said man being pulled into the bathroom by some unnamed suitor. 

"Don't," comes an order, and Kibum obeys.

"Ah, sorry," Jinki is still sincere even as he's trying to think _why, why would he stop_. "He'd hurt you, that's all."

"Will you?"

Jinki grins, reaches out and lays his hand on top of Kibum's. He meets his eyes and slowly pinches at the thin skin of his wrist until it turns white. Kibum flinches, imagining  _bruises, purple and blue and pretty, dotting his skin._  

"Do you want me to?"

 Kibum isn't into that, but he feels strongly that Jinki is, and he wants to be, a desire sudden and alien taking control of his blood, his body, his mind, overriding everything in a tidal wave he feels powerless against. It's a desire to kneel and submit, to bend just for the pleasure of breaking. Kibum stifles a salivating "yes" with difficulty, and Jinki looks surprised and pleased at his silence, leaning forward onto his elbows. Kibum mimics the gesture, and Jinki reaches across the table and plucks the glasses from his face, closing them and settling them down gently. He blinks as his vision adjusts, and the only thing swimming into focus is Jinki. His hands are warm and they brush against Kibum's cheeks to rest beneath his jawline, like Kibum needs the support.

He does need it, Kibum realizes suddenly, as his head dips down and is caught in Jinki's hold.

_He needs, he needs, he needs._

Jinki smiles at him, and Kibum shudders.


	2. Chapter 2

That smile, as clear and deep as it is, is an inherent, primitive threat, and Kibum's eyes squeeze reflexively shut as he prepares to be washed over, his body held in a tight brace. The strange urges that had been wandering in and out of his brain, leaving tracks and traces he doesn't recognize, don't rush in at the first sign of his defense, even though he expects it. His body relaxes for the tentative, short-lived moment before the support beneath him dissolves. The ambient noise of the bar that he hasn't paid attention to since he sat down is abruptly suffocated, replaced with a warm, sentient silence. The sensations of color that were dancing behind his eyelids - ambers and blues - and holding him fast to the world disappear. There is nothing but a darkness and from the darkness, a greeting, a thought suffused with affection. 

 **Hi** _._

If Kibum's heart could race, it would; if his mouth could scream, it would, but he can't summon the will to do either. Blind panic wraps him into a tight cocoon, and from it he can only process that the **thought** is fondly amused at his lack of control. The emotion is enormous, ancient, and the little memory that Kibum has for where he was - he was  _in a bar, he was drinking, it's nighttime, it's Seoul, second table on the right_  - is scratched out of existence. He's left alone, trapped by something unknowable, and he is afraid.

 **Hey, you shouldn't be.**  

 _Why the fuck not_ , he thinks viciously.

The **thought**  expands, intimately close, and it casts a great shadow that creeps into the hidden corners and grooves of Kibum's mind. It makes itself at home. 

**Because I'm here, OK? I'll take care of you.**

He doesn't need to - he doesn't get to - ask _who_ \- _why_ \- _how_ \- because there's a soft finality as **it** finds all of what it's been looking for, marking it with a sigh of contentment. The **thought** turns into shades, turns into an outline, and the outline pulls up a chair from nothing.

They sit across from each other and examine each other. 

There is no bar. There is no Seoul.

There is Jinki, and he looks at Kibum with a pent-up desire birthed from thousands of days and nights spent unworshipped. 

What is left of Kibum's will swallows in a single breath to scream when it is silenced, and with its death, there is an unwarned, painful throb in Kibum's cock.

 **There's nothing to run from,** Jinki looks concerned as Kibum takes a deep breath and, 

_What was screaming..._

**Nothing to worry about. It's all taken care of. You're safe.**

_I'm safe._

_**I'm safe.** _

Jinki is nodding, satisfied, encouraging, and Kibum's hand comes up from his side and lazily reaches towards his waist. He hisses as the pressure against his length is relieved. 

It's unreasonable to run. It's unreasonable to panic. Everything inside of his mind is _**theirs**_. He languidly wraps his fingers around his cock, the weight warm and familiar in his palm. To his surprise, there is already slick forming at the slit. Kibum lets out a sigh as he slides his thumb easily across the head, the motion fluid and practiced.

The taste of salt is a non-sequitur at the edge of his tongue.

* * *

The beer is good, and Jinki sips patiently, his eyes trained on the trail his index finger is making across the wet surface of Kibum's lip. With fascination, he notes the shine it leaves behind. His eyes roam over the planes and angles of Kibum's face, committing to memory with delight the small wrinkle that develops between his brows when the nail of Jinki's finger catches at the corner of his mouth. The digit moves back, intrudes into Kibum's mouth, where it brushes lightly against his tongue, and a barely perceptible moan slips out into Jinki's net. The noise is barely anything at all, nothing when compared to the rattle of glasses, to the scrape of chairs against the floor as patrons laugh and drink, but it's everything to the part of Jinki that he keeps contained in a reclusive fast.

It's the part of him that swallows up the moan hungrily and looks for how he can get more. He drinks in the glistening hollows of bare skin he can lay his eyes on; he puts careful, reverent fingers to the apple of Kibum's throat, and breathes in, sharp and pleased, when it jumps beneath his touch. 

He smiles broadly because, of course Jonghyun was right. He is feeling better already with the little that's been given to him, and he knows that there is so much more to be taken.  

With one hand he closes his grip around Kibum's throat, and the other pushes another two fingers into his mouth. Kibum only hesitates for a brief moment before swallowing, the small moan blossoming into an obscene choke, as his sweat beads in the microspaces between Jinki's fingers. 

* * *

Kibum's lets his head falls backwards, his jaw gone slack to accommodate sudden constriction. Jinki is across from him, swimming in a half-blur, as he holds his eyes forward, but once he rolls them back, there is Jinki too, waiting to catch the curve of his skull before bringing it to rest against the solidity of his chest. Tension pulls at the muscles of his thighs as he works at his leaking, desperate cock. He shouldn't be that close, this fast, but he has nothing else here but to concentrate on pleasure. He's never had such freedom before, a pure fixation and occupation to get off.

Jinki could get him there, he _**knows**_ , but all he gives is a kiss to the cheek, gentle and chaste. It makes him gasp, and turns his pursuit desperate because they have this security, a sanctum for the two of them. He wants to tell Jinki that it's wasting time, to give him kisses when what he needs is the touch of his hand, prying him apart, but his words are atrophied and croak when he tries to get them out.

 **Concentrate on breathing. That's all you need**.

His hands are soft as they brush over where Kibum's are clasped around his cock, and his laughter is light and skittering as he disentangles them, but it turns heavy, chuckling at the sound Kibum releases when he takes hold. He rewards his pleasure and compliance with another kiss, a ghost-light at the corner of his eye, and stays there, breathing in and fluttering the soft hairs at his temple. Breathing is a more difficult prospect, but Kibum does it, shuddering as his vision goes half-black. The only clarity in his world comes from the sensations Jinki is gifting him with: the smooth-skinned, deft touch against the crest of his cock, the warmth of his breath, the sounds of encouragement as Kibum struggles and swallows shards of air. 

He inhales. He presses his back against him until he can feel warmth seeping in, and then he exhales. He'll keep breathing, at his discretion. He'll keep him.

He's _**kept**_ , and that thought brings his hips up, fucking with earnest into Jinki's hand.

* * *

Kibum smells like a thousand different things Jinki is eager to discover, but he's consumed with the scent of lavender firstly when his hair brushes against him as he leans in, lips speaking easily spun, honey-thick words to make him tremble. His love is a sight too beautiful for this bar, writhing, undone at his touch, and Jinki is careful to block anyone else from the pleasure of seeing him like this. He releases his grip and slides his fingers free from his mouth, smiling slightly as Kibum laps at their removal. Jinki finds his hair soft to the touch, sweet-smelling and glossy, and he twists it between his fingers and pulls. Kibum's body bows into a perfect arch. His lips are bitten, swollen plump, and he watches them part as he slides his hand across the damp material that's drawn tight across Kibum's upright cock. 

"Please..."

Jinki forms a circle with his finger and thumb and presses it down around the tip of his cock, watching the material darken and soak beneath this touch. 

"Please what," he says. 

"Please..." Kibum's brow creases in thought as he struggles to put it into words.

"Come on, lovely," he kisses at the corner of his mouth and pulls away when Kibum turns to meet his lips. "Tell me."

" _You_ ," Kibum gasps. "Anything you want. "

"Lovely," Jinki croons into his mouth as he kisses him. "All I want is for you to  _ **come.**_ "

 Kibum shakes. The orgasm rushes over him at Jinki's summons. 


	3. Chapter 3

There's a stain darkening the front of Kibum's pants. His head lolls forward as he peers at it, gravity providing the direction in lieu of rational control. His eyes blur, focus, then blur once more at the gray, the near-black, and the tan of a hand that squeezes at his thigh affectionately.

He's fallen apart. Pieces of himself are spinning drunken, blind, beneath skin that's no longer his. He watches the unfamiliar sight of strong fingers pushing against his muscles to find and release knots of tension with the pinpoint accuracy of a loving and thorough creator, and he shifts as the motion pulls wet fabric against the sensitive mess his cock has become. A hiss escapes the flushed tower of his throat. A kiss grazes at his jaw, and an ache blooms slowly and inevitably as words form and reform, dissolving with each touch of Jinki's lips. 

"What a sight you are," he says. His tone is appreciative, yet Kibum shivers. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not _supposed_  to mean anything," Jinki responds, amused. His smile could charm the dead. "It _does_ mean you're a vision."

He leans in sharply, jostling their shoulders eagerly together. 

"Let me show you."

He turns Kibum's head so that they face each other fully. It's a sight far more potent than the half-image he had been at the corner of his field of vision, a comforting presence with a warm touch and warmer words. 

Kibum looks into the darkness of his eyes, and sees his own complete, absolute surrender. He sees himself, loose-limbed, debauched, and trembling at a touch. His clothes are disheveled and sweat has soaked through the collar of his shirt. A persisting half-hardness distorts the fabric across his lap, and there's that stain again. It looks like he will never be able to clean it away, and the whole world will look and know where it came from. The whole world will know him as Jinki made him, the type of person to be brought apart by a barroom handjob. He feels acutely lewd for the first time in his life. 

"You're overstating it," Jinki wryly says, and the spell breaks. "There's only about fifty people in here with us, and I don't really share. Maybe a few lucky ones got to see you."

"See me come," he finishes as a correction. He follows it with a soft inquiry, as there's something else in Jinki's words that prods at him, flattering but oddly barbed and sardonic. "Lucky?"  

Jinki nods fervently and kisses him on the forehead, resting there as he affirms.

"Any one of them would be lucky to have you."

The wording runs around in Kibum's chest, and Jinki pulls back at the audible hitch in his breath. He cocks his head, observing. The words are smooth and repetitive like a marquee, with an emphasis that pulses and skips beneath each word.

**Any one** , but there's Jinki;  **would be** , but is.

In theory, anyone would be lucky to have Kibum. In reality, only Jinki has him, and luck has nothing to do with it.

The thought isn't distressing, but it's too philosophical to be useful. He instead falls into Jinki's side. Instinctively, he begins to nuzzle into his shoulder, and the motion tugs at the collar of the shirt enough that bare skin - the strong line of collarbone - is exposed. It seems tantalizingly intimate, and Kibum can't help but pull and follow until it joints with his shoulder in a perfect, smooth ball. His tongue darts out to lick the sudden dryness of his lips as Jinki does nothing to stop him.

There is no reason to stop, and he has nothing to be afraid of with Jinki. He loves him. 

"I do," Jinki murmurs from above. There's a weight to his words. "But there are consequences."

"You've kissed me," Kibum whispers. He is confused, but he is faithful.

It's an affirmative noise tumbling and rumbling in Jinki's throat, and it sends a corkscrew spiral piercing into his chest. 

"I've kissed you, but you've never kissed me. It's important, lovely," he boops his nose like a child, and Kibum can't help but wrinkle it in response. "You don't get to turn back if you start it." 

He frowns and pulls back. It seems ages ago that he didn't know him, love him, and even when they were strangers he had no doubts that Jinki  _wanted_ him. The atmosphere around them feels serrated. 

"Why tell me that?" he demands. "What are you thinking? That that's what I want - to turn back?"

Jinki looks surprised, and it stokes at Kibum's rising ire for a brief, infuriating moment before he opens his mouth. 

"I took you because I wanted you. You want me right now, don't you?", his fingers draw at the corner of his lip teasingly, and he instinctively laps for it. "It's because I made you."

He reaches for his hand and brushes his thumb gently across the delicate indentations of bones there, as he lifts his eyes back up to meet Kibum's. 

**Remember when there was no us,**  and in his eyes there's who they were before. Jinki is fiddling with his sleeves while Kibum sits, distant and closed-off and nowhere close to drunk. He is ready to send him scurrying away and go back to being alone. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll forget what line he used in two drinks, and forget his face in five. The next morning he'll wake up and wrap the blankets around himself while no one makes him tea. No one will stroke the hair back from his forehead. No one will kiss him.

He comes back to himself, present, and Jinki's holding his hand like he's afraid he'll pull away and leave him forever. It seems absurd - borderline obscene - for him to be uncertain of Kibum's feelings for him. Determination swells and smothers his senses like coal dust. 

He pushes himself forward to press their lips together, and a small, sweet sound of gratification comes from Jinki at the contact.

It's absolutely lost on Kibum.

The sound of his own heart is thudding in an urgent, desperate tempo for **_more_**. It's dizzying in its scope, how much he wants. His hands come up to cup his jaw, and the feel of his cheeks curling up for a smile has him moaning because - because he made Jinki smile. It's something, and he memorizes the feeling of it beneath his hands, but it's not enough. He clambers forward and swings his legs over broad thighs, straddling him shamelessly. He dips down to kiss him more, to feel his smile against his skin, as though he could capture it in the palm of his hands.  Jinki's hands are light on his hips as Kibum swivels down out of desperation and hunger. He's had his kisses, he's had his smile, and he wants his cock - against his thigh, in his hands, in his mouth, anywhere.  

Jinki tilts his head back, his lips slick and shiny, and his grip turns tight, stopping Kibum's frantic movements in their tracks. A whine rips itself out of him. He doesn't feel embarrassed because Jinki knew what this would do to him; his eyes are heavy-lidded and knowing - what it's doing to him right now is expected.

He's been through this before, but this is new to Kibum. He needs - wants - _why won't he take_ - he tries to move forward and Jinki holds him tighter and he can feel the bruises bursting into being beneath his skin. 

It provokes another moan, making those thick lips to quirk into a merciless smile. 

"You never answered me before, now that I think about it," he drums his fingers against his overheated skin. "What do you want?"

Kibum groans as irritation and arousal swirl and blend into each other. He struggles to remember the moments just before he came. It's a mess of desire and compliance and the overriding, inevitable careen into pleasure.   

"Whatever you wanted," he grounds out. 

Jinki's face turns chiding as he nods.  

"We'll need to work on being honest with me, but, " he shifts and Kibum feels his own cock twitch in hopefulness beneath a layer of dried cum. "I won't lie to you now. I want to fuck you, lovely. Do you want to get ready for me?"

It's like he's speaking it into being, when Kibum can  ** _feel_**  it: the thick weight of Jinki's cock prodding at his unprepared, dry entrance. The phantom wetness of pre-cum slides between his cheeks and curves to tickle at his sack. 

"Yes, please, just - just fuck me," he breathes, bringing his hand back up to his mouth.  

Jinki looks fascinated and persuaded as he swallows his index and middle finger, deep enough so that his lips graze against the knuckles. He digs his fingers into the soft, unmarked flesh of Kibum's hips. He wonders feverishly if he will bleed, if he would love that part of him just as much. 

"Don't be ridiculous. I love every part of you, and if I wanted to make a mess here, I would, trust me. But I'm thinking a little more, lovely - you want me to fuck you? You're taking your fingers well, and you took mine earlier. Remember?" he hums, pleased, as Kibum nods, only half-certain of what was real and what wasn't. He pulls his fingers from his mouth, dripping wet, and begins to reach for his fly when Jinki captures his hand in his.

"Are you sure your mouth is finished?"

His hand shakes in Jinki's grip. He isn't. The thick weight of his cock is still demanding acceptance at his entrance, but it's between his legs, but it's also at the edge of his lips, musk and sweat a heady combination. He wants _**more,**_ he wants to  ** _taste_** , and he knows that whatever he can think to give, there's three more to be taken from him. He wants to do them all and is lost in overstimulated indecision. 

"Jinki..." he whines, and the man relents and lets Kibum tilt forward into the gravity of his presence. He lets go of his hip and reaches up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down as he pets him. There's no mistaking what it is, and it sends his cock into another twitch of excitement at the reminder of the dynamics of this, this...

**_Relationship_** , and he turns his head into his palm to kiss at it thankfully. His ministrations continue and with each pass Kibum can feel his mind being soothed. The desire for  _ **more**_ is still there but it's quelled and tamed.

No - it's Kibum that feels tamed. It's Kibum that feels  ** _mastered_**. 

"Jinki," he licks his lips and opens his eyes. He says calmly and with absolute certainty, "I want to suck your cock."

"Good, lovely," he says as his fingers gently scrape pink lines into the base of his neck. "I wanted you to want that. I've wanted it since I first saw you. "

He leans forward, his face pressing against Kibum's chest as he reaches behind him to push the table away. The sound of the metal legs scraping against the floor is an ugly one that he doesn't process. He removes himself from Jinki's lap and kneels down between his legs as his mouth fills with saliva. Jinki leans forward against, his broad chest providing a momentary umbrella over Kibum, and the ugly sound comes back as he tugs the table. He's sequestered away beneath it, hidden away from prying eyes, and he feels a flush of gratitude that Jinki is so thoughtful about their privacy.  His thoughts get interrupted as Jinki pulls lightly at his hair, reminding him that what he asked for is right in front of him. 

He tugs at the small, warm zipper in fumbling jerks that betray the excitement that still roils quietly beneath his skin. His fingers graze at the slight bulge, and it moves beneath his touch, and his heart jumps as he comes to the realization of just how much he will be asked to take into his mouth. Nothing could deter him, though, and he glances upwards in search of approval once he's pulled it out. The other man pushes his fingers to his lips as he smiles. 

Kibum silently slides Jinki's cock between his lips and its weight lies heavy and perfect as he laves his tongue along the underside, content to feel it stiffen beneath the slow, languid pace. With each pass he feels more serene, more certain of the place he's taken as his own. He keeps his mouth soft, welcoming and lets the underside of his upper lip drag gently across the small veins that run unevenly across the circumference of his cock. Jinki is quiet above him, but his hand stops moving at the base of his skull and he begins to push Kibum further down his shaft. It's threatening to choke him, but he takes a breath in through his nose and the scent calms him. He swallows obediently, letting his eyelids flutter shut in pleasure when he feels the slick coat the inside of his throat. 

His swallows pulse rhythmically, each one deeper and each one making his breaths shallower. His own burgeoning arousal is ignored when Jinki slides his hands down to tug at Kibum's shoulder, drawing his arm upwards so that he can feel how his thigh tenses because of Kibum. It flexes as he pushes himself forward, trembling with effort before he draws back. He moves, forward and back, like a tide, and Jinki lets out a single, restrained hum of enjoyment that thrums through his entire being as justification for his existence.

He increases the pace and rocks back and forth even as pain radiates from his knees, cock bumping against the back of his throat in a consistent reminder of his place. His fingers curl, unwillingly, so that he can hold on and he can feel Jinki's blood rushing everytime he tightens his throat around his length. 

"Stop - I said  _ **stop**_ ," Jinki says, suddenly, and Kibum halts, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth wantonly. He nervously raises his eyes, but Jinki doesn't look angry at all. He runs his hands up Kibum's arms until they curve around his shoulders. 

"I don't want you to hurt yourself like this," Jinki says sweetly. His fingers smooth down the line of his jaw until they find the line of wetness still lining down his chin.  

"Hold still, lovely. I'm going to fuck your face. Hold your mouth open for me?"

Kibum shakes as Jinki shifts forward until he's sitting at the edge of his seat. His hand comes up to the base of his skull once more, holding him steady. He begins, thrusting in and out with little restraint. It scrapes against the roof of his mouth brutally. His eyes water and he squeezes them shut as he sags back onto his heels. Jinki fucks his mouth expertly, holding Kibum so that he has nothing to exert in an effort to keep upright. He is nothing but a warm, welcoming place. 

His lips are bruised and his throat raw when Jinki comes, and he has never felt more treasured. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You promise," he whispers. "Promise me. That this is real."
> 
> "I say it is, and it is. Minho, pay attention."
> 
> Minho opened his eyes, and Jinki leans up, guides Minho up into a kneel. 
> 
> "I think you should kiss Kibum now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i debated whether or not to abandon this story. however, i have made the decision to continue writing it. this chapter is a bit different than previous because a) the human body can only take so much, b) i wanted to show jinki's (slightly) softer demony dom side. slightly softer in this case means manipulating past memories so his new pet/bf can move on. he is still a demon.

Jinki shushes Jonghyun. With a deliberate twist of his fingers, he motions down to his lap, where Kibum's head lay. His hand lands softly, the gentle touch inspiring a sleepy shudder.

"So," Jonghyun says, and Jinki ducks his head and fails to hide a grin. Kibum's eyelashes are fluttering as Jinki pets his hair. "Are you done?"

Jinki shrugs his shoulders in a small, controlled gesture. The other man narrows his eyes suspiciously as he sniffs at the air before catching the scent of completion and laughing.  

"Can I pick them or what?" 

"I'll never argue with you again," Jinki agrees, lifting up his arm to let Jonghyun settle under it, content to bask for the moment. Kibum stirs only briefly in his lap. 

Jonghyun's tongue licks out at the sweat already gathering at his upper lip. The air around Jinki and his new pet is heavy and hot in the little bubble created in the afterglow, and he's happy to soak in it.

* * *

Some time later.

**Lovely.**

**Kibum.**

**Let's go home.**

* * *

It feels very much like a dream, though the blanket he's huddled beneath is warm, rough between his fingers as he clutches at it. There is a hideous murder unfolding in technicolor on the TV. The couch beneath him is cheap, with cushions that have squashed into lumps. He can hear the words before they're ever said, because he remembers them being said before. 

"It's not that scary."

Kibum feels his mouth move, hears the words come out.

"You haven't been watching."

Minho circles around and settles on the floor, leaning against an armchair overfull with clothes. He throws his feet up towards Kibum playfully and laughs. It's rote to Kibum, a memory he has played over and over again.

"No, it's just you. Literally nothing is as scary as you're making this out to be."

Kibum ignores him and huddles in tighter. The movie plays out, as does their own scene. Minho stretches his legs up so his socked feet rest next to Kibum, only occasionally bouncing. He feels this throat work at swallowing down any discomfort at the movie, or at Minho's proximity. 

It's very domestic, and it's happened before. 

"I think you're right, Minho," Jinki says from the corner. "Kibum's just jumpy tonight."

 _Wrong wrong wron-_  

This was years ago. He just met Jinki - he just me-

"See?" Minho says, twisting up with a triumphant smile. "Jinki agrees with me."

"Be nice," Jinki admonishes, and Minho looks a little recalcitrant as the other man steps over him so he can sit beside Kibum's still, shocked figure.

"I thought we were past this," Jinki says, cross-legged and facing him. He looks like soft, at home with the two of them, his hair tousled, but his eyes are sharp and dark. His small, almost chubby fingers walk along the crown of Minho's head. His roommate lays his head back on the cushion, lets Jinki brush his dark hair carelessly. The movie plays on.

Kibum had watched this movie, snuggled into this blanket as Minho had laughed at him - years ago - and by himself. His mind pushes forward his past.

It was before he had moved out. It was before -   

He swallows. Jinki hadn't been part of this, and yet here he is. His face flushes as Jinki reaches out and strokes his cheek fondly.  

"This is such a memory, lovely. I had to see."

His heart jumps, uneven, inside the cage of his chest as he sees how Minho's eyes have closed, relaxed and at ease with a stranger petting him like a dog. The laughter that was in them earlier must have disappeared by now, stifled until there was a use for it. 

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Jinki asked. 

It had been a cliche, and Kibum had complained about it, loudly. Minho had nodded in agreement before crawling back onto the bed and wrestling to free his petulantly crossed arms. His eyes had been wide and dark, and sweetly affectionate. A softie, Kibum had accused him of being.   

Jinki tilts his head. 

"With your voice, lovely. Let it come out."

"The movie - " he nods his head stiffly. "- idiot tickled my feet. Scared the shit out of me, then tried to say it was to relax me."

Jinki's fingers flex, out and in, at the back of Minho's neck, like a spider extending its legs. 

"I was mad that he wouldn't let me finish watching it because I told myself I would. He said he was just trying to spare me some nightmares."

"How cute."

"He surprised me," he says.

The TV blinks, and so does Jinki, the reflection bright in his eyes. 

"Why are you here?" Kibum asks, hesitant.

Jinki gives a light tap to the back of Minho's neck, and he yawns, cracking his jaw in the old familiar way.

"Because I called you home, and your first thought was of this. Home is _**ours**_  now, lovely, yours and mine." He looks sad, disappointed. "If we ran into Minho tonight, would you go with him instead?"

Kibum can't bring himself to say anything at all. He tries to shake his head, but it stubbornly refuses to move. Self-loathing slides along the lines of his bones like a slug. 

" _ **Kibum**_ ," Jinki says firmly, and Kibum finds his head being jerked up as though someone had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The address has become so foreign. His expression softens in the dim light. "I didn't come here to punish you."

"You didn't," he repeats, dull. 

"No," he cups his cheeks in his hands and brushes his thumbs against the light fuzz at the lines of his jaw. "You're holding onto something that makes you hurt. I don't want you to hurt, not ever."

Kibum leans into his touch, and Jinki welcomes him, opening his arms so that Kibum can curl up into his side. His breath comes out in hitches as Jinki patiently rubs at his back. Minho's eyes open slowly, glittering cold and blank in the lamplight. 

"Don't," Kibum starts, unable to stop looking at him. "I'm sorry. But don't take him away. Please."

"Lovely," Jinki kisses at the top of his head and tenderly pulls at his hair so that Kibum tilts up to face him, the forgiveness and love marking clearly in his expression. "I would  _never._ But let me give you something you can remember instead of it. Please."

 Minho blinks slowly, awareness slipping slowly back into his gaze, and Kibum tries to breathe; he tries very hard to trust. 

 **Trust me**.

_Yes._

_**If he could trust anyone, it was Jinki.** _

"Okay," Kibum whispers. Jinki hugs him closer, and pushes his limbs gently aside. He doesn't look away from Kibum for a moment as he pats at his legs, and Minho crawls up silently. Kibum can't quite breathe right, as Jinki arranges their positions just so. Minho lies, squeezed against Jinki's side, his legs off the couch, bare toes buried in the small space beneath; Kibum perches on the cushion, half-sitting on Jinki's hip; and Jinki pulls him down so he can smile against his skin his blessing.  

The movie is at the credits, and they are just beginning. 

Minho looks over at him, his smile mischievous and secret and exactly as Kibum remembers it. 

"Are you hiding, Bummie?"

The words are different, but it's the same slow, languid motions of his long fingers against the blanket, and the same light smile with something small and hopeful behind it. Kibum broke it and it had bloomed into a grin when he had kissed it the first time. 

Kibum has to make the effort to snort the denial, but it comes out weak and weird. He wants to turn his face in, but there's the imploring, the expectation, the promise of  _ **trust**_ he just gave Jinki, and he breathes in and out and somehow doesn't shy away **.**  

"Ah, it's okay. It's cute."

"Cute?" he responds, woodenly. 

"Very cute," Minho nods seriously, his smile sloppily hidden, peeking out still at the corners of his eyes. Kibum looks over his face, greedy and hungry and a little ashamed of both, aching even with Jinki's grace.

There's an aching rush that's not quite pain that brings his hand up to brush a lock of hair out of Minho's eyes. He feels a burn in his throat at how his eyes flutter close at his touch.  

Jinki speaks. 

"You're doing so well, lovely."

"You promise," he whispers. "Promise me. That this is real."

"I say it is, and it is. Minho, pay attention."

Minho opened his eyes, and Jinki leans up, guides Minho up into a kneel.  

"I think you should kiss Kibum now."

It happens before Kibum can process it; Minho, pressing his lips against his. It feels like the past is remixing, his mouth opens more quickly than it did before - but the taste of salt from cheap pretzel sticks is the same - Jinki's hand is supporting his neck, its span fitting in the space between his thumb and finger - Minho making the same noises, the same gentle noises that Kibum turned over and over in his head after they left, wishing he could hear them one more time - he pushes forward so he can do it all over again, except better.  _ **This is real**_ , and Minho groans against him when he pulls so that Kibum is flush with the back of the couch, and Jinki is calm and watching. 

Kibum lets himself sink into the sensation. It's a dark puddle of memory and dream and now that he is being drawn into willingly as Minho explores, his lips moving from Kibum's to his jaw, a tickle against freshly shaved skin. It feels like re-tracing old lines, filling them in deeper and darker than before. He has Jinki's word that nothing will go wrong, and it makes him bolder, lifting his arms to wrap them around Minho's shoulder and tracing the edges of his shoulder blades. The muscles move beneath his touch as Minho ducks down to nibble gently at his neck, moving up gradually, without rushy until he reaches the tender, thin skin beneath his ear, and Kibum let out a small 'ah'. 

Minho makes a small noise of apology and laughter, and licks at the mark, small, warm, and wet, creating a pinpoint of cold when he pulls away. 

"He's so sensitive to your needs, lovely," Jinki observes as Kibum and Minho look at each other in the following, anticipatory pause. Kibum sees Jinki tilt his head, and feels the question before he says more, feels it crawl up his spine with light, teasing fingers. "Is he sensitive in other ways?"

Kibum nods, his mouth dry. Memories sweep over him, not of this night, but of others, where his fingers, wet and exploring, made Minho twist and keen. 

"Can I -" he starts, and Jinki laughs. 

"Ask him."

He licks at his lips, absurdly nervous, when Minho sweeps down on him and kisses him again. 

"C'mon," he says against his lips. "Ask me."

He can't, not really, distracted by everything, so he murmurs wordlessly, high instead, and planes his hands against Minho's back, down, until he reaches his waist. The curve of it is calling him down, and Minho chokes out a "please" that makes Kibum's cock stiffen. 

"Please," he repeats and begs for his own sake, his breath is heavy with want. "Can I fuck you?"

Minho rumbles against him as he pushes his pants down awkwardly, and Kibum slides his hand down to grasp, digging his fingers into his crease before pausing. 

"Don't worry about it," Jinki says, unseen, but Kibum can still feel his gaze on him. "He's prepared already."

Minho turns red at the ears but nods. 

"Oh," he says. 

_**Lube in the bathroom, Minho bracing himself against the wall and fingered himself, thinking about you fucking him, biting his lip to keep quiet didn't you see his flush when he walked in here? that was for you, lovely, that was him, his come still sticky on his thigh, he still had sweat at the back of his neck from imagining you thrusting into him over and over again. didn't you see lovely? how didn't you hear?** _

"I don't know," Kibum begs for mercy for the images pounding into his brain. 

_**didn't you? didn't you know, lovely, from the beginning, as soon as he walked in, this was how you would end up-** _

Minho is pushing back against his hand, arms thrust out on either side of Kibum so he can hold onto the back of the couch with a white-knuckled grip. The apple of his throat is bobbing and his eyes are imploring for Kibum to enter him. He clumsily pulls his own zipper down over his straining cock, and Minho pulls himself further up, looming over Kibum, and he smiles, wide and eager, and it's just like before - 

 _ **he wanted you so much, lovely. he touched himself thinking about you for months before tonight**_.

He reaches out and cups his cheeks in his hands again, and shudders out his breath as he feels Minho descend and it's - 

_**perfect.** _

He breathes out as Minho feels so tight around his cock, and his arms are trembling. He seats himself fully in Kibum's lap, long legs bunched up and bracketing the pair. Kibum lets his hands drop from his cheeks, to his shoulders, to his arms, to the small fuzz around Minho's navel. His cock is long and dark and Kibum remembers how it once tasted against his tongue. 

Minho slowly pushes himself up and lets himself drop again with a groan of effort, and the sensation sings against Kibum's veins like a note too low to hear, making his skin crawl. He does it again, using his arms against the couch cushion as leverage and Kibum watches his head drop back and there's the shine of the light from the kitchen catching the sweat gathering at the hollow of his neck, and it paralyzes him. All the effort he can muster goes into watching Minho fuck himself on his cock, and feel Jinki's approval simmering in the air like electricity before a storm. All he can do is - 

 _ **enjoy it**_. 

He leans back and some of the electricity licks over him, pleased, and Minho groans above him, his cock bouncing and gleaming wetter. Idly, he reaches out and swipes his finger across it, bringing the slick to his mouth. 

As he savors the taste, his hips come up, disturbing Minho's rhythm as he thrusts in his full length, and Minho chokes -

_**what a** _

"Good boy," he praises as Minho spills his completion onto Kibum's lap with a gasp. 

**that goes for you as well.**

Minho laughs, exhausted and pleased, and Kibum falls to the side, his cock messy and leaking onto Jinki's legs. His pleasure is a warm and tangible thing that falls over them like a blanket. 

"Thank you," he murmurs. 

Jinki kisses at the sweat dotting his forehead, and Kibum can only fall deeper in love **-** trust-faith-want in response, at near-collapse at everything he's been given tonight. There's a question just at the edge of his mind, watching him fade into rest. It asks,

**Lovely Kibum. May I take you home now?**

_Yes_. 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 


End file.
